Then his mouth was on my breasts, his tongue lapping at my nipples and swirling around them. He was just the right mixture of smooth and deliciously rough. First he’d kiss and lick at me, working his way inward across the breast to my nipple. Then he’d swirl his tongue around it in spirals, drawing it up to a quivering peak. And finally he’d bite gently at me, using his own lips as cushions over his teeth, until my feet were twisting together in circles and my nails were digging into the table top.
And then he’d do it all over again. It went on and on, lifting me closer and closer to my peak.
By the time he stopped, my breasts were shining and my hands were buried in that thick, dark Irish hair, dragging his head to me. I was trembling from being on the brink of an orgasm for so long. When he stepped back, I just sat there staring up at him, incapable of speech.
“I want you to come,” he growled. “But I want to be in you. I want to feel it.”
Oh Jesus yes!
He drew my panties down my legs and off, then tossed them away. He stepped between my legs, knocking them apart a little farther with his hips. Then he undid his belt and let his jeans slide down. The shape of him was clear through his jockey shorts and, a second later, it was there in his hand, thick and long and pointing right up between my spread thighs. He stared right at me as he took a condom from his pocket and rolled it on. I stared down at myself as he came closer and closer, watching the tip of him approaching me. I wasn’t used to being able to see it like this, to actually watch as he—Oh God! The head of him pushed between my folds, spreading them. I felt myself opened up. It was different, like this, everything felt—Ah! He slid inside me, the girth of him stretching me just a little, making me grab for his shoulders. Everything felt different. And goddamn great.
He stepped closer, pushing right up against me as he slid deeper. It would have been awkward if I hadn’t been so thoroughly, shamefully soaking for him. I let out a long moan and clasped my arms around his back as he pushed all the way into me, filling me completely. I squeezed my legs shut against his hips and that changed things again, making both of us gasp.
“I love fucking you,” he said. “When I’m not with you, I dream about fucking you.”
My brain and my heart did somersaults.
His hands went out to grip my hips...but at the last moment, he must have remembered my bruised hip because he grabbed my waist instead. He held me in place as he started to thrust, slowly at first but getting faster, those thickly-muscled thighs and tight ass giving him the power to really go at me. I threw my head back and luxuriated in the feel of him up inside me, so big, so gloriously wide, stroking against me, angled up so that he hit me in just the right spot—God!
Ribbons of hot pleasure were starting to swirl their way upward, spreading out to every part of me, flaring into fire when they touched my breasts or lips, anywhere he’d touched me. I started to jerk my hips towards him, wanting more of him. The table began to shake as we slammed our bodies together as hard as we damn well could. My hands came down to clutch at his ass, digging my fingers into the solid muscle there.
He sped up again and suddenly he lifted me and thrust his hands under my ass, cupping my cheeks. I groaned as he began to squeeze and knead me there in time with his thrusts. I’d been rocking back and forth a little before, but now his hands formed a firm little seat at the edge of the table, holding me in place for him. I groaned low in my throat as the increased friction sent me wild. Every thrust ended with a grind of his groin against my clit and I could feel the pleasure drawing tight, bursting free—
I came, eyes squeezed shut, legs and arms wrapped around him, shuddering helplessly against him. His. He groaned as my body squeezed at his cock, but I didn’t feel him come.
When I regained my senses, he was moving very gently inside me. “Are you ready for more?” he asked in a low, utterly filthy voice.
More? I was still panting. But hell yeah I wanted more. I nodded.
He lifted me up to standing. And then turned me around to face the table. He pushed me up against it so that my groin was at the edge and then pushed gently on my back.
I got the idea, and the thought of it made a dark depth-charge of heat sink down to my groin and detonate there.
“Open your legs,” he said. I’d never heard his voice so thick with lust.
I stepped my legs apart. I was still wearing my heels and that meant my ass was higher than the table top. If I wanted to put my chest down on the surface, I had to arch my back like a cat and tilt my pelvis...which of course, from where he was standing, was pretty much offering myself up to him. Again, I felt the heat of his gaze, this time licking down over my lower back and ass, eating me up. “Christ, Sylvie,” he muttered. “You’re incredible.”
I’d turned my head to the side and was breathing a little fast. There was something about this position that made me—not nervous, exactly, but sort of weak and heady. Something about not being able to see him, about having this big, powerful man right between my spread thighs, with no warning of when he was going to—
Ah! The silken press of him against my lips, pushing me in, and then me opening to him and the hot surge of him right up into me. I let out a high little cry as he went deeper than before, deeper than he’d been up on the roof. God! I felt the slap of his balls against me, the press of the thick base of him against my lips, and I realized he was completely buried in me, as deep as a man can be. Instead of pulling back, he stayed there for a second, grinding in slow circles, and it felt amazing. He leaned right over me and bit the back of my neck, just barely nipping the skin with his teeth. I shuddered and moaned.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he said, “since that time you bent over the ropes in the ring.”
I flushed, remembering it. Me too.
He kissed down my spine, as low as he could reach. Then he took hold of my ass and began to thrust. Almost immediately, I was rocketing up towards another orgasm. The way I was tilted up to meet him meant that, while my ass was in the air, my clit was rocking against the edge of the table. And he could go even harder and faster like this. He began to grunt as he pounded me and I threw my arms out over my head and grabbed for the far edge of the table. I knocked something heavy—a coffee mug, maybe—and it went spinning off the table and I heard it shatter. Then I was clutching, white-knuckled, to the wood. The orgasm was expanding inside me, filling me up, ready to burst. I had my eyes closed but, even if I’d opened them, I wouldn’t have been able to see him. I was bent over and being ravished by some faceless stranger and it was filthy and raw and utterly hot, but at the same time safe. Because I knew it was him, and I knew he’d never hurt me.
“God,” I gasped. “I’m going to. Going—to—”
“Go on,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Come for me, Sylvie. Be mine.”
That pushed me over the edge. I threw my head back and groaned and cursed, pushing myself up with my hands and arching my back like a bow, and his lips found mine and we kissed as he shot and shot inside me and I shuddered around him.
Aedan
I woke up with a start and then listened. What was that? What the hell was that?!
It took me several seconds to realize that the thing I could hear was quiet. No trucks. No clatter of chains and whir of cranes.
I wasn’t in my apartment near the docks. I’d done what I never did: stayed over at some woman’s place after sex.
And then my brain caught up. Sylvie. It wasn’t some woman I’d picked up in a bar. It was my angel, and we were finally together. A warm calm descended on me. I smiled in the darkness.
I rolled over as carefully as I could. There she was—sound asleep, her black hair fanned out across the pillow. Her lips were slightly parted and she looked utterly serene. I could only see her bare shoulder, but I remembered her peeling off her dress before we fell into bed, which meant she was naked under the sheets. If I just pulled them back, I’d see every gorgeous inch of her….
I got up before I
could succumb to temptation. I was wide awake and buzzing with energy, even though it was still the middle of the night. Why? Why wasn’t I cuddled up with Sylvie, in the same deep sleep? God knows we’d fucked hard enough to be exhausted.
I found my shorts and pulled them on, then stumbled to the bathroom. It was only when I turned on the light that I saw it. Something was different about me. I looked...normal. I looked like a boyfriend. Some guy that Sylvie had met at a coffee shop or on the subway. A nice, normal guy who could take her on dates and buy her presents. Someone, somewhere, had granted me my secret wish—
I was still half asleep, so it took me a few seconds to realize what had happened. In my bathroom, the light comes from the other side.
I twisted slightly and my scars appeared from the shadows that had been hiding them. And everything they represented slammed back into my mind.
Coming here hadn’t fixed me at all. I hadn’t changed. I’d just forgotten what I was for a few hours, thanks to lust...and maybe deeper feelings.
I’d been weak. I’d thought with my cock instead of putting her first. She said she wanted a bad boy but I was a feck of a lot more than a walk on the wild side. I was the worst sort of guy. She just didn’t know it, yet.
For her sake, I had to push her away.
Sylvie
In the shower the next morning, I looked down at my body. The changes were easy to see. My core had tightened up. My thighs and calves were toned from all the footwork. My posture had even gotten better, because I’d strengthened all the muscles in my back. And the bruises were fading a little, enough that they could be mostly covered with make-up.
When I came out, Aedan was making coffee, which made me want to kiss him. So I did, snuggling up behind him wearing only a towel and touching my lips to the back of his neck.
He tensed up. “Hi,” he said.
I froze. Something was wrong. Something had changed, since we went to bed. He was back to that silent, brooding guy he’d been when I first met him. “What’s up?”
“Nothing’s up.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Here. Coffee.”
I frowned. “Aedan, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. Come on, let’s go shopping.”
Shopping? Neither of us had money for shopping. Was he going to surprise me again with another dress? That was sweet, but I couldn’t let him do it a second time.
Or was this him attempting to be romantic? I suddenly relaxed. That was it! He was just some big, dumb guy and he was trying to play the boyfriend and getting it slightly wrong. Okay, I could live with that. It was actually kind of cute.
Something about it still didn’t seem right, but I was ready to believe anything rather than admit something was horribly wrong.
I dressed and we headed out. When we hit the street, I wished I’d brought a jacket because the summer heat had finally built to the point where a storm felt inevitable. Already, dark clouds were spreading over the city, coming our way. But it was too late now.
On the subway, I tentatively took Aedan’s hand and he smiled and held hands with me, but it felt mechanical and forced. Was this his past again, his belief that he shouldn’t be with me? Or was it simpler than that—was this just morning-after regrets? Had he just wanted to fuck me and now he was looking for a way out? But then why not just say something at the apartment? What was the shopping trip all about?
It’s romantic, I told myself furiously all the way to the mall. It’s romantic. What other reason could there be? I just had to give him a chance. He hadn’t dated in a long time so he wasn’t used to all this hanging-out-together stuff. That’s what it was.
And I wanted it to work so badly. He’d put on this faded blue t-shirt that hugged his arms and brought out his eyes and, every time I looked at him walking alongside me, my heart soared. This went beyond liking him, now. This was much more than that. But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?
Of course he does. It’s romantic. We walked into the mall. It’s a romantic shopping trip. In a minute, he’s going to surprise you with—
“Okay,” he said, stopping and turning to me. “This’ll do.”
We’d stopped in the middle of the mall’s main hall. My heart was pounding against my ribs, my face flushed with excitement. I was right! What is it? What is it?
“I want you,” he said, “to start a fight.”
His words rang around my head for a few seconds.
“What?” I croaked.
He crossed his arms, which meant he had to let go of my hand. I looked down stupidly at my empty palm. “You were intimidated by Jacki,” he told me. “A fight’s not just about fists. Half of it’s in the mind. You’ve got to get up in her face, next time. You’ve got to let her know she’s going to lose. Once she believes that, she will lose.” He looked around us. “So pick a woman and start something.”
“Wh—What?” Someone had driven a chisel into my chest and was hammering it home, cracking me apart. I felt so goddamn stupid. Of course it had just been about sex. Of course this wasn’t some big romantic gesture. It was a training exercise. But I couldn’t let him see how upset I was. I felt stupid enough as it was. I redirected my pain. “I can’t just attack someone!” I snapped.
“You don’t have to hit her. Just get in her face. Yell at her.”
“I can’t do that!” My voice was savage and raw, all of the hurt spilling out. “I’m not some psycho!”
I stared at him. He didn’t answer but he knew. I could see it in his eyes. He knew he was hurting me and he didn’t want to. So why are you doing it? Why are you playing games with me?
And then I remembered how I’d pressed him the night before, outside the restaurant. He’d told me he shouldn’t be with me, that he was wrong for me, and I’d kept right on pushing. Was this the inevitable outcome? The sex was done, and now we had to go back to being just pupil and mentor? For the first time in a long while, Alec’s warning swam back into my brain.
What if the stuff in Aedan’s past was bad? Really bad? What if Alec had been right all along? What if this whole thing really had been doomed from the start and I was the only one too stupid not to see it?
No. I couldn’t accept that.
I shook my head determinedly. “I can’t just yell at some woman. I don’t even know these people. I don’t hate them. I can’t just turn it on like that.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. Despite everything, it felt good.
“Do you hate Jacki?” he asked.
I hadn’t ever thought about it. I was scared of her—scared as hell. And angry, because she’d hit me and humiliated me. But she’d done all that because Rick had ordered her to. She probably needed the money just as badly as Alec and I did. “No,” I said at last.
“You’ve got to be able to turn it on,” he said gently. “You’ve got to be able to hate your opponent. You’ve got to want to destroy her. You’ve got to think that you deserve to win. She has to be scared of you. That’s the only way this works.”
I shook my head again. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“That’s why you’re going to learn. Go on.”
I stood there and stared at him. I didn’t say anything, but my eyes were pleading with him. Tell me! Tell me what’s going on! What’s changed?
I saw his eyes soften slightly. He didn’t want this any more than I did. But at the same time, he wasn’t going to change his mind. He was back to being my trainer—what I needed, not what I wanted. “Go on,” he said firmly.
I turned and walked away. I could feel the tears prickling at my eyes, but I blinked them back. God, I was pathetic. I was crying, just as I needed to be intimidating and strong. Because the worst part was, I knew Aedan was right. I did need to learn this stuff, or I’d be continually backing away from Jacki next time I met her, hitting the wall and tripping over my own feet in my hurry to get away.
I tried to think of what Aedan would do.
Aedan would man the fuck up.
; I looked around for a woman on her own, because that seemed like a good place to start. I felt worryingly like a lion, looking for the weak deer to prey on. Someone who’d scare easily.
But each time I headed towards someone, I veered away at the last moment. That fifty-something woman with the fussy neck scarf? That was someone’s grandmother. The harassed mom towing a three year-old? I couldn’t yell at her—the kid would hear.
And then I nearly ran right into someone. Bleached blonde hair and a smile that was all lip gloss and confidence. About my age, but socially the polar opposite. Her arms were loaded down with bags and she was flanked on either side by what I thought of as bookend friends—designed to support her and make her look good. One had glossy black hair, one chestnut. They only needed a redhead and they’d have a complete set.
The leader didn’t say anything. She just looked at my cheap t-shirt and my worn jeans and sneakers and her lips curled into a patronizing, fake-apologetic sneer. She exchanged a quick look with her friends, as if to say, Oh dear.
I stumbled back a few paces to get out of their way, but not fast enough. The blonde tossed her hair and they walked around me. It wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened a million times before, on the street or in a bar. It was just how it worked, how the social elite let everyone else know who was in charge.
I thought of how scared I’d been of Jacki. How scared I’d been of everyone, my whole life.
And I reached out and grabbed one of the blonde’s shopping bags.
She pulled up short as the handle snapped tight. “Hey!” She rounded on me. “What the fuck?”
For the first time in my life, I took a step forward, towards the danger. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, bitch?” My voice didn’t sound how I wanted it to sound at all. It was a thin, shaky croak.
Saving Liberty (Kissing #6) Page 39
